


i'll be yours (and you're mine)

by underpressure



Series: i'll be yours (and your mine) [1]
Category: One Direction
Genre: 18 year old Harry, 22 year old louis, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Harry, Felching, M/M, Rimming, Sugar Baby Harry, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Louis, top!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underpressure/pseuds/underpressure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dating a famous footie player is hard – maybe even harder than school or convincing his mum that he was mature enough to move in with Louis even though he was only eighteen (and barely that). He pouts into Louis’ chest, pulling his hips closer with a tug of Louis’ thick hip. With a slow grind of his hips and a nip of his teeth at Louis’ nipple, Harry attempts to apologize again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll be yours (and you're mine)

**Author's Note:**

> somewhat inspired by these photos: [x](http://falsecompare.tumblr.com/post/73117051553/wormkink-i-didnt-think-there-was-gonna-be-in) and [x](http://falsecompare.tumblr.com/post/78593755368) as well as the plethora of photos we got from Louis playing football.

“I’m really sorry that I’m missing your game,” Harry whispers, lips ghosting over Louis’ nipple as he speaks. It’s late – way too late for him to be awake and have to be up for an eight am class the next morning – and the lights from the street are peeking through to cast light on the floor. Louis’ legs are tangled with his under the expensive sheets, toes brushing against his hairy calf. 

“’salright, Haz. Really,” whispers Louis, fingers brushing at the curls over Harry’s ear. He twirls a curl around his index finger and tugs on it lightly – a warning. 

“But it’s your first game here, Lou, and I’m going to miss it all for some dumb sociology exam.” 

Dating a famous footie player is hard – maybe even harder than school or convincing his mum that he was mature enough to move in with Louis even though he was only eighteen (and barely that). He pouts into Louis’ chest, pulling his hips closer with a tug of Louis’ thick hip. With a slow grind of his hips and a nip of his teeth at Louis’ nipple, Harry attempts to apologize again. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish. Go to sleep. You have an exam tomorrow and I have a game.” Louis has a strict No Sex the Night Before a Game policy and it is the only policy he has that Harry has yet to figure out how to get him to break. He pouts harder into Louis’ chest and tries to fall asleep while at the same time reciting the social groups over and over in his mind.

* 

When Louis takes him out after the game (a win: two and zero), he is wearing a blazer that makes his shoulders look broad and lovely. They’ve been together for nine months and Louis gets more handsome every time Harry looks at him, while he still resembles a prepubescent bullfrog. When they go out after the game, the menu doesn’t have prices beside the food descriptions. There are beautiful photos of filet mignon and lamb and descriptions of the food with words that he can’t pronounce. It all looks thrilling, but there are no prices. Harry clears his throat and looks for something that doesn’t involve quail or lobster. Chicken is cheap, right?

It’s not that Harry is poor and that Louis is rich. It’s just that Harry is a student with no more than twenty quid to his name a week and Louis gets a hefty check every month for kicking balls into nets. And honestly, he really wouldn’t have minded Nandos or something else that wouldn’t make him feel like he was spending all of Louis’ money at every meal. 

“See anything you like?”

And the thing is that Louis is Harry’s exact definition of perfection. He exudes power and he’s funny and sexy and smart and so so so kind. He doesn’t really understand how they ended up here… in a restaurant with white tablecloths and candles and waiters that wear ties. He smiles across the table at Louis, legs crossing under the table. He doesn’t really understand how he someone managed to serve a blueberry pastry to a fit footie player and then fall in love with him in six months. 

“Thinking about getting the chicken.” Chicken is safe. Chicken is good if Louis is trying to secretly send him messages like do not order the lamb, Harry. It’s way too fucking expensive. Chicken is safe.

“Chicken? No, babe, get the steak or lamb.”

And Harry is nervous. He’s sweating in weird places and his fingers are kinda shaky on the edge of the menu. And he has to ask – he has to, because he is not ordering the steak and then forcing Louis to fork over fifteen pounds for his meal alone. His cheeks burn and his foot bounces nervously under the table.

“How… how much is the steak?”

Louis doesn’t look up from his menu, but his foot moves under the table, lines up with Harry’s and nudges.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

So he orders the steak and when Louis reaches across to grip his fingers on the tabletop, he tries to tone down his insanely large smile.

*

Harry knew he was in love with Louis after their date to the Ed Sheeran concert. It wasn’t because Louis had known Ed and they got to go backstage after the show. It wasn’t because Louis had paid for his ticket and the hotel room and the souvenir t-shirt.

It was because during the entire concert, whenever he thought Harry wasn’t looking, Louis would sneak glances over at him and stare. He stared at Harry while Ed sang all of his lovely songs (except A-team, that one made Harry cry though he wasn’t sure why) and kissed him slowly during Tenerife Sea. Harry’s heart had left his own chest and made a home forever behind Louis’ ribcage. 

He’d never been in love before, not like that at least. He’d felt things for Caroline Flack who was a few years ahead of him at college and he’d flirted with Nick Grimshaw at Radio One when Louis had to go in way too early one morning for an interview and he’d dragged a heavy-blinking Harry along. Crushes and flashes of affection were fun and exciting but nothing made him feel like Louis did. Everything Louis did was a thrill, made him feel so desperately alive – like he was taking advantage of every second God was giving him. He’d never been in love before but what he felt for Louis could only be described as that, as love. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” 

Louis’ fresh from the shower, water dripping in tiny rivers down from his long hair to soak into the waist of his boxers. He looks so beautiful that Harry’s chest swells up and he reaches out for the older boy, smiling up at him. 

“You.” 

Louis’ smirk turns incredibly cheeky and his eyes float down over Harry’s pale chest before sweeping back up to meet his eyes. 

“What about me?” 

“Well, only your ass really. It’s just that I got a bit hung up when you were doing those squats at the game.”

“Hazza, you weren’t at the game.” Louis looks at him confusedly, kicking his legs apart to settle his hips over Harry’s. He definitely does not arch his back to feel Louis’ soft cock press against his own. 

“I know. I was just imagining.” He cranes his neck, coming up to bite at Louis’ bottom lip and pull at it. 

“You’re awful. Those squats aren’t even fun.” Louis kisses him slowly, forearms pressing into the soft bedding on either side of Harry’s head. His hips move easily, rocking into Harry’s as their lips slide together wetly. Harry feels hot all over, from the bottom of his feet to his fingertips to the flush on his chest and he whines out over Louis’ lips, hands brushing over the smooth muscles of his back to grip at the cheeks of his ass. 

“Slow down, curly. We have all night,” Louis smiles through the words, whispering them into his neck as he places wet kisses over the sweaty skin. Louis doesn’t feel nearly as overheated as Harry does, but when he pulls his hand up to grip at the wet hairs at the base of Louis’ neck, the dimples of his back are pooling with sweat. Harry wants him so much.

“Fuck me.” It comes out in a hiss as Louis bites at the tender flesh around his collarbone, sucking purple bruises into the skin. And then he whines and God, he should be embarrassed to be so hard and desperate for Louis just from a blunt brushing of teeth over his nipple, but he’s not. He’s so not as Louis winks up at him, lips sliding down his body to nip at the soft furred skin under his belly button. 

“Fuck you? You didn’t even come to my game. What makes you think you deserve that, baby?” 

Louis mouths at his cock through his boxers and Harry’s head falls heavily back onto the pillows. He’s not mad about Harry not going to the game and Harry knows that, but he still feels a bit guilty. He also knows exactly what Louis is playing at while he sucks at the head of his cock through the cotton of his boxers and then reaches up to rub his thumb over the wet fabric. He whines into the pillow, reaching down to grasp at Louis’ fingers where they hold his hips down. 

“Don’t tease, Lou. Please.” 

Louis jerks down Harry’s boxers, letting them tangle around his ankles briefly before he forces them roughly over his big feet and pushes Harry’s thighs apart. He’s like a lion after his prey as he slides up to press a kiss right beside Harry’s cock, fingers tracing through the dark curls that rest at the base of his cock, hard and resting up against his abdomen. 

“Gonna be good, baby? Gonna be good for me?” 

Louis is a tease – a rotten tease as he pokes out his tongue and licks around the dark head of Harry’s cock. He presses hot kisses on the skin, sucks harshly over the sensitive head before taking only a fourth of Harry into his mouth and then pulling off to tug at the length. 

“You look so pretty, Haz – so pretty for me.” 

It hurts Harry’s neck to stare down at where Louis sits between his thighs, mouth hot and wet around him, but it would be a sin to look away from him. When Louis pulls off and sits up, letting Harry’s wet cock slap back against his abdomen, Harry flinches and then shivers as his cock twitches. Everything feels good, even the pain when Louis pinches at the skin in the bend of his knee to get him to prop his legs up. Louis slips a pillow under his hips to settle them at a good angle and leans down to press a long, openmouthed kiss to his lips as his hand fishes in the drawer for the bottle of lube. 

“Louis, please.” Harry whines, hand sliding down the long curve of Louis’ spine, fingers bumping with the ridges of bone before he grips at the thick flesh of Louis’ ass. “Please fuck me.”

“Be patient, Hazza. We have plenty of time.” Louis wets his fingers and dances them around the heat between Harry’s thighs, playing with the hole that clenches whenever his fingers drag just right. He slides in the index first, eyes on Harry’s face as he pants weakly into the crook of his elbow, cheeks flushed with blood that runs down to the middle of his chest. He’s glorious. The middle finger follows and Louis’ crooks them just so before scissoring and twisting as Harry bites at his own skin and reaches down to tug some pressure off of his cock. He doesn’t get to grip at himself before Louis’ slaps his hand away, tucking it under the small of his back so that Harry’s palm presses flat to the mattress. 

“No touching.”

His voice is stern and punctuated with a third finger, a burn that feels so good to Harry. 

“Louis.” His voice is wrecked, like he’s been sucking on Louis’ cock for the past hour. Louis watches his face as he stretches out his fingers, observes the glassy green eyes and raw bottom lip. Harry looks so obscene with his cock a dark red, thick between his thighs and neck and cheeks flushed a deep pink. Louis’ pulls his fingers out and wipes them over his own cock. 

“You ready, Harry? Ready for me?” He whispers it against the hot skin of Harry’s neck, fingers gripping at the base of himself as he teases the head against Harry’s hole. Harry nods, jerkily hands gripping at Louis’ shoulders desperately, fingernails digging half-crescents into the tan skin. 

“Please. Louis, please fuck me.” He bites into Louis’ shoulder as the head slides in, stretching against the skin in a way that makes green eyes roll back to show only whites and his fingers shake at their grip on Louis’ shoulder. He thrusts harshly, hips coming up to slap in a stark noise against the harsh breaths and whines that fall from Harry’s bitten-raw lips. 

Louis’ thrusts into Harry easily, keeping a hand settled on his thigh to raise it up to rest on his hip. His lips slide against Harry’s jaw, teeth catching on the bone when he grazes Harry’s prostate and he moans out low, jaw dropping.

“Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.” Harry says, pulling Louis’ face close to slide their lips together in a kiss that is more tongue, teeth, and spit. “Yeah, fuck me. Oh, fuck me.”

He’s filthy, fucking himself down onto Louis with each thrust of Louis’ hips, moans falling from his lips that turn higher with each stroke of his prostate. Louis gets the idea, halfway through when he grinds slowly into Harry, rubbing against his prostrate.

“Don’t come until I say,” He says, thrusting quickly. He watches as Harry reaches up to grip at the bed, fingers twisting up in the sheets around his head, watching him with an open mouth. 

“Lou, please. Oh, I wanna come. I wanna come, Lou.”

Harry whines out, fingers coming to wrap around his cock between their bellies, but Louis pushes him away, holds Harry’s wrist down to the bed and pistons his hips, eyes rolling back in his head as he comes inside of Harry, toes curling and fingers pressing bruises into Harry’s pale skin. He pants into Harry’s neck, presses slow kisses over the flushed skin and then reaches up for kiss. 

“Lou, lemme come. Please,” Harry pleads, fingers pushing at Louis’ shoulders in hope for a continuation of the blowjob from earlier, but Louis has plans. 

“Hold on, baby. I have an idea.” He winks at Harry, pulling out slowly and then sliding down to look at the flushed hole between his cheeks. Louis’ come trickles out among the shiny remnants of lube and sweat. Sticking his tongue out, Louis licks wetly over the hot skin, lapping up all of it. Harry keens, back arching as his hand grips at his cock, jerking at it as Louis coaxes his come from Harry’s body. 

“L-Louis, ‘m gonna come, “ Harry whimpers, fisting himself as he watches Louis’ head between his thighs. When Louis points his tongue and thrusts it inside and his fingers press into the soft skin of Harry’s thighs, he moans out high and long as he comes over his stomach.

“So good, baby. You’re so good.” Louis whispers, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek and forcing himself to leave the bed for a flannel to wipe his sweat and anything else off of Harry’s skin so that he doesn’t wake up feeling gross and sticky. He washes his face and brushes his teeth, but when he goes back to clean Harry off, the younger boy is fast asleep. Louis presses a soft kiss to his relaxed lips and curls around him in the bed.

“Love you, Hazza.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading. please feel free to come say hello at my [tumblr](http://falsecompare.tumblr.com).


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